Unstoppable
by Zenith Aquilla
Summary: What if you couldn't die? What if every day for forever, you were a fourteen year old girl? What if, after everyone you loved died, over and over again, there was nothing you could do to end it? What if not even death could stop you? You'd be unstoppable. People like that are in high demand. No, mutants like that are in high demand.
1. Staying Alive

"And we're stayin' alive, stayin' alive. Ah, ha, ha, ha, stayin' alive, stayin' alive. Ah, ha, ha, ha, stayin' alive," my cell phone burst into song, shaking me from the last traces of my day dream. Startled, but not enough so to be completely halted, I pressed the cold screen to my ear.

"Hello?" my brow furrowed as no one responded.

I dropped the device as it started buzzing incoherently. The line was dead. Annoyed but not tremendously so, I slid downstairs. I waved vaguely at my stepfather, who was leaving for work. He didn't look up, or even nod, as he pushed his way outside. His hands were completely full of papers and a piece of toast hung limp in his mouth.

"Love you too," I muttered as the door slammed.

"STAYIN' ALIVE, STAYIN' ALIVE. AH, HA, HA, HA," again I answered my cell, and again it was a dead line. Eyeing the phone as if it was to fault for the inconvenience, I dropped it roughly onto the smooth kitchen counter. Its shining black screen stood out oddly on the sandy marble. Flipping my blonde waves back I sashayed back upstairs. Falling into my plush lavender futon, I hoisted a copy of Hamlet over my head, drowning deep into the conspiracies and other medieval affairs.

Hours passed, and the pages dwindled down. According to my window, it was already night time. An odd noise pulsated from the first floor. Heaving to my feet I trekked down the stairs yet again. The pulsing gradually formed into an all too familiar ringtone.

"STAYIN' ALIVE, AH, HA, HA, HA, STAYIN' ALIVE!"

A strange grip of fear tugged at my stomach. Pushing it aside I punched the little green button. Though it was expected, my stomach flopped as the line fell dead.

A streak of anger flashed, and before I knew it I was dialing a new number.

"Operator, I'd like you to trace a call…"

After a couple of tense seconds my phone rang in reply.

"Hello, this is the operator," a pleasant female voiced sounded, "We've traced your call. It's coming from _inside_ your house."

"Wait, _what_?" I began to panic. My chest heaved as hyperventilation racked my body, "_Hello_?"

She had hung up.

Though I knew it was positively forbidden, I pushed a black hoodie over my shirt and burst outside. The chilly air stung at my arms, biting through the jacket's meager protection. The realization hit me that wearing jean shorts in such weather was completely inappropriate.

A silhouette stepped in front of my path, about twenty yards ahead of me. I froze in my tracks, taking a single, involuntary step backwards.

"You know," a smooth voice flowed from the shadows, "It's dangerous to be out at night. Alone."

"I suppose that depends on the company," I replied, trying to stop the shaking.

"Do you find me- dangerous?" he looked up.

"Should I?"

"Yes," he chuckled darkly, "Yes, I definitely think you should."

"Now, do you want to this the easy way or the-" I never heard the end of his sentence, mostly due to me diving into the closest driveway. He swore, obviously seeing I was gone. Looking around for _any_ sort of cover, I dug my hands into the bark of the nearest tree. Hoisting myself up, I attempted to hide behind the dense foliage. Peeking between the leaves I saw my attacker burst into the driveway. He was younger than I had thought, seventeen I'd guess. Maybe sixteen. His hair was slicked back and he donned jeans and a long sleeved t-shirt. Pretty average all in all, if he wasn't so- terrifying.

"Show yourself!" he demanded, "I know _all _about you Grace Reynolds. I'll just burn the whole place down! When some of the ashes get up- I _will_ find you."

Cringing at the thought of my entire neighborhood burning down, I slipped smoothly from the great oak. He was already at the base before I hit the ground. He wrapped a rough hand around my shoulder, wordlessly towing me away.

"Hey!" I cried, "I-"

He responded to my discomfort by clamping his other hand over my mouth. I suddenly knew where we were going. The only empty field for tens of miles. The beach.

As he manhandled me past my house, I strained towards it, whimpering rather pitifully. He just chuckled again, pushing me forward roughly. After a few more minutes of this we turned onto the cliffs. Waves like black glass beat at the earth like they were its only enemy.

He released my mouth as he tried to keep his balance along the rocky surface, making his way to the shore below.

"Lighten up," I unsuccessfully tried to push the boy's arm off.

In response he loosened his grip very slightly. While his thoughts were on that particular arm, I brought the other into his jaw. Hard.

He unhanded me quite without choice, bringing his hand up to wipe the blood off his chin. I jumped away, dashing in the exact opposite direction. The sky was pitch black and starless, not letting me see where I was going. I stumbled to a halt as I nearly ran off the edge of the cliff.

I heard the boy approach before I saw him. His hands erupted into flames, illuminating his face ominously. I was trapped.

"Now," he smirked, the blood still stained his jawline, "You never let me finish. I think we're a bit past the easy way, don't you?"

Instead of responding I turned on my heel. He seemed to realize my plan, for he sent flames in an arc around me, blocking my path. Ignoring the bright ribbons of heat I ran, through the fire and off the edge.

Pain seared at my very being, as fire streamed off of my clothes and hair like the feathers of a conceited bird. The craggy rocks and roiling sea, once hundreds of feet below, raced at me in flashes of oily black and hard grey. The grey grew larger and larger and the pain grew brighter and brighter until all I could see was bright white agony, until finally with a jolt, all the air was knocked from my lungs and everything was black.


	2. Blackbird

Coughing up lungs full of salt water, I heaved myself on shore. Rolling onto my side I lay in the sand. Grit coated my hair and my clothes were stiff with salt. After I could possibly think of anything besides my burning throat, I felt a presence above me.

Looking up, an enormous man stood above me. His eyes were black as night and animal furs coated his body. He grinned down at me, revealing teeth like needles.

I was momentarily distracted by the sound of crumbling earth and a string of expletives. Glancing past the behemoth of a man, my eyes landed on the boy from earlier stumbling down the cliff's edge. He angrily stomped over to me, landing a hard kick to my stomach. I grunted, rolling back a few feet. At a small effort to protect myself I curled into a ball. He lashed out again, breaking the petty barrier my shins provided with a resounding crack. A scream pierced the silence.

It took a moment for me to realize it was mine.

He stopped his onslaught, nodding roughly towards the behemoth. He grabbed me by the ruff of my neck, lifting me like I weighed nothing at all. I felt so tiny I almost believed it. I scratched at his hands but my arms felt like lead. He grinned, digging his massive claws in deeper. Crimson droplets appeared on the back of my neck where he withdrew. The wholes instantly resealed, provoking shock from no one in the present company.

My leg had begun to reset, now a straight line of smooth bone once more. It didn't end the pain though. It never did.

"Hey!" a deep voice echoed, "Drop the kid."

The previously unseen man stepped out of the shadows, his silhouette suddenly visible. Claws as long as my forearm jutted from swollen knuckles. He took another step forward, his scowl fully evident. The behemoth swiveled around, giving me the full view. A grin stretched across his glistening fangs. He tossed me to the ground, my body tumbling back into the shallow water. I began to rise, but the boy stood over me threateningly. He watched as I fell back into the soggy sand, a smirk dancing on his lips at his total control. I looked up just as the behemoth lunged at the clawed man's throat, tearing at him with his talons bared. They twisted around on the ground, locked in a deadly tussle. The kid's eyes were on the wrestling, his eyes dancing with amusement.

With one last glance at him, I dug my heels into the soft sand and sprung up. He whirled around, but I was already twenty yards down the shore. He ran forward, but was thrown down face first into the sand. The clawed man leapt off of him, running at me,

"Cab for Grace Reynolds," he mumbled, hefting me into his arms. I inhaled sharply in surprise, twisting to see the behemoth lying face down in the sand, and the kid desperately trying to catch up. He roared angrily, pouring fire at us like a power hose. It fell amazingly short, not going near us. Crying out in frustration he stumbled into sand, yelling some very choice words.

I turned back to the man who held me, surprised to see the amusement in his eyes. He balanced me in one arm, pushing away a barrier of trees. An enormous helicopter was revealed, piloted by a red headed woman. He carried me inside, setting me down in one of the imposing chairs. The seat before me swiveled around, revealing a small, bald man.

"Hello Ms. Reynolds. Welcome to the Blackbird," he smiled comfortingly. I was still shaking slightly, and could not properly grip the seatbelt. The clawed man reached over, to buckle it for me. Somehow they had been retracted, as if the claws had never been there at all.

"My name is Charles Xavier," the bald man spoke slowly, as if he were unsure of my state, "This is Logan," he pointed to the clawed man, who nodded, "Jean Grey," the pilot, "Bobby, and Rogue"

I crossed my legs and attempted to sink as far into my chair as possible. The engine roared to life, immediately lifting us skyward.

My mind wandered to where these people were taking me. While they had saved me from the first boy, it proved nothing.

_We are going to the X-mansion, in Westchester County, New York. We are friends. While you are with us, I swear no harm will come to you._

I squealed, jumping slightly. Logan jumped to his feet, trying to find the invisible assailant.

"I apologize," Charles Xavier frowned, his eyebrows knit in concern, "It can be- distressing- at first."

"You're a telepath," I eyed him.

He nodded, his whole demeanor seeming to ask for forgiveness. I visibly relaxed, silently giving it to him. Logan also seemed to calm, sitting back down.

"It was Sabretooth and Pyro," Logan suddenly spoke.

Charles nodded, and I suddenly understood, "The two who attacked me?"

"You can guess which is which," he smirked. I returned a small smile.

"Prepare for landing," Jean called, pushing buttons haphazardly. We started a slow descend, as the engine power began to slowly decline.

Pressing my nose against the window, I stared down at the sprawling property below. Children swarmed around outside like ants.

"It's- it's a school?" I turned to Charles.

"Yeah," Bobby answered, "I hope you'll be happy here."

"Thanks."

He reached over, extending his hand, "I'm Ice-man. You can call me either that or Bobby."

"Grace," I shook it politely.

Everything was shrouded in darkness as we landed, falling onto the landing pad, "We're going to need to take you to the hospital wing, just to ask you a few questions," Jean looked over her shoulder, "Is that alright?"

I looked around, not wanting to go anywhere alone. Bobby seems to pick up on it, because he stood abruptly, "I can come with you. If you want."

"I'd like that."

Rouge's eyes narrowed suspiciously. I couldn't understand this sudden animosity, until realization hit me. They were a couple.

A hand landed on my shoulder, forcing a flinch to wrack my body.

"You ready?" Jean stood over me, a worried smile painted on her rosy lips.

I nodded, unbuckling myself slowly. Standing, my sides were flanked by Bobby and Logan. Rogue went over to Charles, helping him into a wheel chair.

Confusion ensued. I had had no idea with him sitting. He must have been a paraplegic. Tearing my eyes away, I began to focus back to the others.

Jean tapped my shoulder a bit impatiently, urging me forward. I followed her down the ramp, each step echoing against the smooth walls. All the children I had seen before were absent from this chamber, leaving nothing but ominous silence and the squeak of the wheelchair trailing behind us.

**So, next chapter questions will be answered! Yay! If you have any on particular, leave 'em in the reviews!**


	3. Interrogation

"So, are you ready to begin?" Jean was now wearing a lab coat, holding a clipboard and pen. Logan and Bobby stood comfortingly beside me.

"What's your full name?" she poised the pen above the paper in anticipation.

"Grace Reynolds," that was an easy one.

"How old are you Grace?"

"I- I stopped keeping track," I bit my lip.

"After?"

"About twenty three," I wracked my memory.

"How long ago was that?"

"Around the seventies I think."

"When did you realize you had stopped aging Grace?" she frowned.

"I didn't change after fourteen," another easy one.

Bobby seemed to be looking at me very differently. I had assumed they were all mutants, but my talent was a bit different.

"What is your ability? Other than the aging?"

"I can't die," I used to say I don't die. Things had changed.

"What do you mean 'can't'? Do you have an accelerated healing rate?" he lips pursed into a frown.

"Well, yes, but no. I just can't die," I was starting to get frustrated.

"But how do you know? What if you just-" she started.

"I _know_ because I've _tried_," I exploded, jumping to my feet. Everything went really quiet, and I realized what I'd said.

"Grace- I-" she went to touch my shoulder, but I recoiled.

"Just keep going," I huffed, sitting again.

Logan looked extremely put off, like he had wanted to say something but decided against it. Bobby's mouth was practically hanging open.

"Okay," she was still frowning, "When did you first recognize your powers?"

"When I was, well, fourteen, the first time. I was playing on the roof of the school shed, showing off to my friends when- when I fell. Onto the rocks below. Cracked my skull open. All the kids and teachers had crowded around, and they watched me get back up," I grimaced at the memory.

"A-alright," she nodded quickly, "Any experiences since then?"

"There was one."

"What happened?" she tilted her head.

"I don't like talking about it…" I trailed off.

"It's _really _important," she begged.

"FINE!" I burst out, exasperated.

"Whenever you're ready."

"It was the day after actually. They cornered me after school. There were two of them. They pushed me up against a wall. Called me a freak. Told me I didn't deserve to be alive," I told them placidly, as if it wasn't me who had experienced it. I could have been describing a movie I'd seen, "A lot of stuff about me being unholy. I ran away, but they caught up to me easily. One held me down while the other dug a hole. It was a big one- seven feet across. About fifteen deep. I didn't understand what they were doing- they were just too strong. When they were done, they let me go. I was so relieved, I didn't know what was going on until I was sitting pretty at the bottom with two broken legs."

"Stop," Logan demanded, unable to hear any more.

I continued coldly, "I tried to get up while I started healing. That's when the first shovelful of dirt came. It knocked me flat on my back. I kept trying to get back up but more and more dirt came. Eventually I blacked out, waking up who knows how long later with my lungs full of dirt. I died- over and over and over. But I couldn't die either. I couldn't escape. That's where 'faith in humanity' gets you. Fifteen feet under hard packed soil."

They all stared down at me, this young, defiant little girl. Unable to stand the tension, Logan abruptly turned and left. After another moment, Bobby did the same.

Jean stared at me, mouth wide open.

"They were _fourteen_ Ms. Grey! If that's what two fourteen year old boys can do, what am I up against?" I pleaded for her to understand, to empathize, "I'm not- protected. Like some of the others. I'm just like everyone else, forever."

She nodded slowly, "You may leave Grace. I'll call someone to show you to your dorm."

"Yes ma'am."

Logan reentered, nodding his head towards the door. I trailed after him, timidly wading through the hall. The students erected a path around him, offering ample room to move around.

He stopped suddenly, making me slam into his back. He was like a concrete wall, not even wavering.

"Here's your room," he mumbled, not taking any time to hurry away. I didn't know earlier, but now it was obvious. He remembered.

He remembered me.

**So, I hope that cleared some stuff up. I'm not really positive where I'm going with this, so suggestions are welcome! Please leave a review, cause if no one likes it I don't want to keep writing! Until next chapter,**

**Zenith**


	4. Wolverine

I had met the Wolverine before, and he had met me. I couldn't have been sure it was truly him, at least not until now. I remembered.

_Logan turned slightly, acknowledging the scene that began to play out before him. A large, heavy set man was dragging a young girl inside by the hair. The dim light of the pub and clouds of cigarette smoke blurred everything into a haze._

_ "I didn't know it was yours!" she screamed, thrashing around in his hold._

_ "It was chained to my freaking car!" he shouted, pulling her ear close to his mouth. Except he hadn't said freaking. The stench of alcohol was evident, even from where Logan sat._

_ "I'm sorry!" she cried, fat tears rolling across her cheeks, "I'm sorry!"_

_ He slammed her against the wall, sneering all the while._

_ "Is there a problem?" the bartender stretched to his full height, as if trying to be intimidating. It didn't work._

_ "Bitch stole my dog!" he growled, turning away from the girl for the first time._

_ "I freed him," she mumbled._

_ "What did you say?" he pulled her close again._

_ "Nothing."_

_ Logan, seeing there was no good way this would unfold, stood. Stepping up to the man, he eyed him, as if calculating how easily he could take him down. Standing so close, the reek of stale beer was nearly overwhelming._

_ "Let the kid go," he glared down at his rotund adversary. _

_ "Stay out of the way," he snarled, moving back to the girl._

_ "I said let. The kid. Go."_

_ The man ignored him, fully facing away. He turned around as a resounding SHING echoed through the bar. He turned to see the noises source, and wasn't disappointed. Twelve inch claws sprouted from the interferer's knuckles like knives. No one said anything, but the word seemed to be screaming from every direction._

_ Mutant._

_ Frightened and desperate, the man fumbled in his pockets, pulling out a switchblade. With a practiced hand he flipped it open, pressing it to the girl's throat. She cried out, not daring to move._

_ "D-d-don't move," he murmured, eyes flashing around warily, "I'm not bluffing! I'll do it!"_

_ Not wanting any harm to come to the girl, Logan took a hesitant step forward. Fearing for his own life, the man pressed the blade into the child's neck, slashing across. She immediately fell to the ground. Blood poured from her throat like a crimson waterfall._

_ Enraged, Logan roared. Springing forward he sunk his claws deep into the man's chest. The man gasped like a fish, looking down at his impaled chest. Logan pulled back, allowing the body to slip to the ground, joining the deceased girl. _

_ He had been too late. _

_ Too late._

_ Logan turned, coming face to face with a noticeably paler bartender._

_ "Get out," he deadpanned. _

_ Logan turned around, preparing to leave._

_ "Wait," the bartender's tone made him stop, "Take those with you," he gestured to the was the least he could do._

_ Grunting his consent, Logan hefted the corpses over his shoulder, being considerably more respectful with the girl. Shuffling outside he placed the bodies down and began to dig. _

_ He bellowed in anger, at all the world's injustice. Frustrated tears appeared in the corner of his eye, but he ignored it. He wouldn't cry. He wouldn't allow himself too. He dug until his worries and pain were far beneath the soil and the sun began to break over the land. Only then did he allow himself to stop._

_ Hoisting up the man, he dropped him into the yawning grave, turning as his body hit earth with a satisfying thud. He began to lift the girl, when something extraordinary happened._

_ Her eyes flashed open. Darting around at their new surroundings, they fell on Logan. His head was tilted, face coated in a disbelieving expression. On pure instinct his claws flashed out, as he slowly made his way towards her. _

_ She began to back away, terror written all over her face. His confusion was too thick to see it. She looked about desperately, trying to find any way out. Then her eyes landed on the hole. A barrage of memories hit her like a sledgehammer._

_ Her grade school. The two boys. The hole. _

_ Adrenaline rushed to her from nowhere. With a final cry she leapt to her feet, dashing in the opposite direction. Anywhere but the hole._

_ It won't happen again, she promised herself, I won't let it._

_ Shaking his head, as if coming out of a trance, Logan hurried after her. They ran and ran until everything was just a blur of colors. All Logan had to hold onto was a flash of blonde hair here, a camo jacket there._

_ He froze suddenly, realizing she was nowhere to be seen. Whipping around, he found himself in a small clearing. All around him were identical black trees against grey sky. Straining his ears, even with their heightened ability, all was silent._

_ He had given up, trudging back to the bar, to his truck. Trying to piece the night together in his head proved impossible. She had died, he was positive. He had watched the light fade from her eyes. _

_ But, at least in his experience, the dead had never gotten up before. _

_ Or ran away_

_ After that he had forced himself to forget. Pushed it to the back of his mind where all the other weird, unpleasant things sat. _

That was ten years ago.

When he had found her on the beach, he had been searching for her, but hadn't made the connection. Not until the moment she mentioned a hole.

Plus the whole not dying thing put up some red flags.

Now he sat on his bed, trying to force everything down. This changed nothing. She was still a mutant child he was sworn to protect. One Magneto showed considerable interest in.

Whatever her fate, he'd be ready. He wouldn't let her down. Not again.


	5. A Gift

"Where are they going?" I tilted my head towards Logan, who was hurriedly striding towards the front door.

Bobby followed my gaze, eyes snapping to Logan's retreating figure, "Ah, Wolverine. He goes off with the other professors a lot."

"Logan's a professor?"

"Well- no."

I offered a wry grin in his direction. Silently dropping it we went back to our food. Pushing piles of leafy greens around my plate, I snuck another glance up at Bobby. Rogue was draped over him protectively, as if they were the only two in the cafeteria. It was cute, but she seemed threatened by every other girl.

Kitty sat adjacent to them, indulging herself in an animated, one way conversation with Peter. He was definitely the strong silent type.

Peter- or was it Colossus? The whole name thing confused me. While Rogue never gave me another name, Bobby and Peter offered me two. I never knew which to accept. It bothered me endlessly.

Ever.

Ever was mine. Since stepping foot inside the Academy, I had called myself Ever.

Suddenly everyone stood, lifting their trays. A sort of telepathic bell rang, alerting us to our next period. Even after a few days, it still bothered me. I simply felt uncomfortable around telepaths. My mind was my only sanctuary and even it wasn't safe.

I didn't move as the other's left, watching as each emptied their trays into the respective bins. I continued to stare as they began to file to their individual classes. Peter glanced back at me, raising his eyebrows at my evident lack of movement. I rewarded his concern with a lop-sided smile, tilting my head towards Professor X's office. Realization clouded his vision, and he nodded, trailing after the rest.

Since I'd arrived, I'd been having daily sessions with the Professor.

And I hated them.

While I blatantly refused to speak during our 'sessions', I was positive that he just dug through my head and figured out anything he wanted to know.

After my teeny outburst with Dr. Grey, I was hesitant to say anything else. That never stopped the Professor. While he was kind, and seemed to have good intentions, he scared me far more than I'd ever admit. He could kill any of us with a thought. No one should have that amount of power, no matter _how_ good the intention.

I snapped out of my revere, noticing I had ambled to an unfamiliar part of the mansion. It was completely empty, undistinguishable from back to front. Thinking of it, I didn't even remember which way I had come from.

"_Hello_?" I whispered, my voice echoing a little, "Hello?"

I knew better than to even bother trying to find my way. The mansion was as twisting as it was extensive.

"HELLO?"

"Ever?" Kitty popped her upper body though the wall, her mouth breaking into a wide grin, "Thought that was you! Where've you gotten yourself?" she stepped all the way into the room, "Don't think I've been in this one before."

She began to explore the hall, beckoning for me to follow. Upon the turning of the corner, she stopped dead in her tracks. I slammed into her back, stumbling a few steps behind. She covered her mouth, smothering a scream of surprise. I followed her gaze, locking on the sight that lay before us.

An enormous window had been shattered, crimson splattered shards shimmering across the hall. In the center, a human girl lay on ground, her head twisted at an unnatural angle. Her throat was hanging open, and her front was nearly completely coated in dark blood, still spilling around her torso.

Across the walls, someone had hurriedly scribbled gibberish in her blood. Written in enormous block letters across the main wall were the only two distinguishable words.

_Grace Reynolds_.

Kitty had begun retching, holding one hand over her mouth and leaning over. Her eyes squeezed shut and tears began spilling out. I fell to my knees, unable to tear my eyes away.

Kitty sprinted away, covering her eyes with one arm. She was still sobbing uncontrollably. Her last hiccupping sobs pinged against my mind as she disappeared from earshot.

Eventually the low, robotic rolling of a wheel chair encompassed my senses. Charles Xavier rolled to a halt, his eyes flickering over the scene.

"All evidence would point to this being your doing, it literally has your name on it, but I of all people would know you didn't do this," his words were cutting but his tone was full of sympathy.

I didn't turn, still incapable of looking anywhere else. He frowned, touching his pointer and middle finger to his bald forehead. Seconds later Logan had rushed in, also freezing as he noticed the girl. He glanced over her once, and then to me. He once again gathered me into his arms, their dark hairs prickling against my skin. I buried my face into his chest, but even through the darkness I saw her lifeless body, lying in a pile of broken glass.

"You can walk?" I snapped my eyes open at the sudden words.

"Excuse me?"

"Can you walk?" he restated, looking down at me hard.

I nodded quickly, and he immediately set me down outside my dorm door. I watched his back getting slowly smaller in the distance before disappearing altogether.

Rogue ran up to me, grabbing my shoulders with her gloved hands, "Ever! What happened? Everyone's talking and- and an entire floors been roped off! I heard you- what _really_ happened?"

I opened and closed my mouth like a fish, completely unable to speak. She eyed me up and down, like she was trying to read a foreign language, "That bad?"

I looked up at her, trying to communicate my sudden lack of speaking ability through my eyes. She eyed me once more, before finally releasing my shoulders, "Alright. That's alright. I'll give you time to… Bye."

I again watched a friend's fleeing back. Finally I entered my room, clicking it closed behind me. Turning to face my room, I instantly regretted it.

This time I screamed openly, letting it rip free. I tried to bite my tongue, trying to make it stop, but I was rewarded with the metallic taste of blood. Stumbling against my door, I regarded my newest punishment for trying to survive.

Singed into my back wall was a single word. A warning.

_Soon._

They knew where I was. They knew which room I was in. They got into my room. I wasn't safe. Not even here.


	6. Trickery

"Ever!" a voice hissed, disturbingly close to my ear.

I shot up, nearly rolling completely off of the bed. I hadn't planned to fall asleep, but now waking up I realized I had failed miserably. Bobby stood at my side expectantly, nearly bouncing in anticipation, "We _really_ have to go!"

"They're here?" I suddenly couldn't find a sufficient amount of air.

"They're here."

He grabbed my wrist, wrenching me to my feet. Hauling me into the hallway, we catapulted into the foyer. My oversized Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters sweater flapped behind me like an enormous flag.

"SHH!" Bobby froze, pushing me into a doorway. Footsteps pattered past us, slowly fading out after what felt like an eternity. As soon as it was silent once more we continued on, winding through the mansion's endless maze of hallways. He wore nothing but boxers and an undershirt, which made me vaguely uncomfortable. Fortunately, that wasn't the most important thing on my mind.

"In here!" he murmured, pulling me through a seemingly random doorway.

And directly into someone's arms.

The offending limbs pulled me inside, whipping me around to face the room's contents. Pyro smirked down at me, accompanied by an elderly man in a pinkish helmet. Bobby slowly stepped forward, standing on the man's other side.

"B-Bobby?" my lip quivered in confusion.

"It seems you've been, what's the word?" the old man chuckled, "Oh yes. You've been played."

Bobby's form shimmered, growing and morphing until a blue woman, with absolutely no clothes on, stood where he once had.

"Mystique, my darling, you truly are a wonder," he still chuckled softly.

They all laughed now, all were smiling rather twisted grins. Completely content to stand and enjoy my pain. Even my captor emitted a low rumble, identifying him as Sabretooth. How history has that nasty little tendency of repeating itself.

"What do you want?" I asked, no begged.

"Well," Pyro stepped forward, a twinkle of laughter in his eyes, "I know you got my gift, but when you didn't call to thank me, I was wondering what was wrong."

The image I had been trying so hard to forget flashed through my mind's eye.

"Well to be honest, Sabretooth did most of the work," he snorted.

I thrashed in Sabretooth's arms, but it resulted in little to nothing. They just laughed at me, always laughing. What a merry bunch.

"Ms. Reynolds, correct me if I'm wrong, but your ability is self-preservation?" the older man was suddenly serious, "With proper, accessories, you can be useful to others as well."

"Mainly you," I frowned.

"Yes, mainly me."

"Mystique, would you collect our other friend? We couldn't possibly leave until everyone's here," he grinned as she sauntered out.

"Who are you," I demanded.

"My name is Magneto. No doubt you've heard of me, attending here," he nodded around.

"I've- I've heard talk."

"Then you know my abilities."

"Whatever."

"I'd be quite careful with your tone Ms. Reynolds. I have comprehensive control over all forms of magnetism, and you my dear, are currently wearing braces," he smirked.

I gaped at him before quickly closing my mouth. We simply stood there, unspeaking, for quite a while. Then came the screams.

We all fell to the ground, clutching our heads in pain. My skull felt like it was being ripped open over and over again.

"Who woke Siryn?" Pyro growled through clenched teeth.

Siryn, or Theresa Cassidy, was a little Irish girl with a big mouth. Logan burst through the door, holding his head in a similar fashion. My glee was transformed into annoyance when his form shimmered and once again Mystique was revealed.

"I- I went into the wrong room!" she gasped through winces.

"Come on!" Magneto growled gesturing to the wall opposite us. The window pane flew from the window, clattering onto the ground. The glass rectangles, losing their support, shattered against the smooth floor.

In turn the three stepped through, followed closely by Sabretooth and me. Outside an enormous jet lay in wait.

"HELP!" I screamed, thrashing in the giant's arms, "SOMEONE PLEASE! HELP MMMMRRrr!"

I was abruptly cut off as my teeth clenched together, as if of their own will, and moved no further. I strained against it, but to no avail.

Damn braces.

Throwing me inside, Sabretooth clambered into the jet. I ran towards the back door, but Pyro caught me around the waist.

"Whoa, there," he chuckled, pinning me against his chest, "Now, now."

I strained towards the rear exit, but he had about twenty pounds and five inches on me. I was once again reminded of the human girl. He laughed as I went rigid in his arms.

"I knew you'd warm up to me."

"If you make one more pyro joke," I deadpanned, "I will punch you in the throat."

He just kept on laughing. I wrenched myself away, turning to glare at him. When he didn't stop, I sat cross legged on the floor in resignation. The engine roared, and as we were lifted, my hope fell. Working a tick out of my freed jaw, I glanced around at my newest kidnappers. In reality, they were the same ones, but it was a new scenario.

Piloting the jet was a new guy, with dark hair and skin green as swamp water. Noticing my stare, he had the audacity to wink at me. Turning back, I frowned down at my feet.

"You never answered my question," I mumbled to the ground.

"And what was that, my dear?" Magneto raised an eyebrow.

"What do you want?"

"Well you remember our dear friend-" he was cut off abruptly as the jet shook, jostling everyone seated. I on the other hand, without a seatbelt, was tossed against the back wall. My vision blurred, and I tried to see past the tilted world. Struggling to my feet, I pressed my nose against the glass. Rain beat against the plane like tiny bullets. The plane tipped again, beating my forehead against the glass. I fell onto my back, locked in a pained daze.

"Storm," Magneto cursed and everything went black. Again.


	7. Cyclops

"Miss? Miss, please! Oh, gawd Miss, WAKE UP!" someone whispered, shaking my shoulders erratically, "Miss!"

"Come join the polka," I mumbled woozily, rolling onto my stomach.

"For god sakes Miss!"

"Hm?" I sat up, rubbing my head. Using one hand I steadied myself in the grass.

Grass?

Shooting to my feet, I whirled around, taking in my surroundings. I was in some sort of clearing, surrounded on three sides by trees. A bit away, city lights shimmered. Next to me was a man in a flannel shirt and baseball cap, still kneeling by where I previously lay.

"Miss you doin' all right?" he had a bit of a southern drawl.

"Where am I?"

"Didn't think you was from around here. Fell straight out of the damn sky!" he gestured grandly.

"I di- huh. Happen to see anything else?" I've honestly stopped questioning things.

"No ma'am."

"Huh."

"Huh," he agreed.

"Sooo," I took a cautious step back, towards the sparkling city lights, "I'm just going to- uh," another step, "Go now- If that's cool with you and everything."

"Oh. Uh-," he tried to end our awkward exchange, "I'll be seeing yo- HOT DAMN!" he screamed. Ducking instinctively, I barely escaped a green glob that came crashing at me head. Unfortunately, the kindly redneck wasn't so lucky. The gob crashed into his face, knocking him at least a yard back. Sliding to the ground, he futilely pulled at the goo before going still. He didn't look like he was breathing.

Spinning around, I came face to face with our pilot. His green skin was decent camouflage in all the leafy foliage. He faked towards me, grinning as I flinched. Opening his mouth, an enormous tongue protruded, extending impossible lengths. It clipped my shoulder as I dove put of the way, and let me tell you: Grossest. Thing. Ever.

I scrambled to get up, but he stood over me, making that sort of impossible. Smirking triumphantly, he began to move forward, but froze at the sound of voices.

"You know what happens what an Optic Blast fries a toad?" a voice deadpanned, "Same thing that happens to everything else."

"Hey, you've already used-" Toad's complain was cut off as he was thrown deeply into the trees by an enormous red beam. From my half-blinded haze, a hand emerged to help me to me feet. Gratefully accepting it, I was heaved to my feet. The man blanched as he saw me, nearly dropping me back to the ground. My mouth hung open in recognition.

_1981:_

"_Yo hablo, I talk. Tu hablas, you talk," the Spanish teacher droned, chalk dust flying as she scraped the words in the blackboard, "El habla- somebody translate. Summers?"_

_ She directed her attention to Scott, a boy lounging in the back of the room, "Stop slouching and take off those sunglasses," his ever present red aviators sat perched on his nose._

_ "I have a headache," he mumbled._

_ "Then you can wear them in detention after school while you write out this conjugation one hundred times," she frowned. He sat up, as if he was about to protest, but quickly resigned._

_ "Somebody else?" she addressed the rest of the class. _

_ "I-it's my fault," I stood, unable to bear the injustice. He was a nice kid, studious even. Who knew, he might have an eye condition._

_ "And how, pray tell, is Scott's eyewear choice your fault?" she placed a hand on her cocked hip. Scott's brow furrowed in confusion._

_ "I made a- a bet. With him. And he lost. So he has to wear sunglasses," the words came out choppily as I tried to defend him with a suitable lie._

_ "Then you won't mind joining him in detention. Now, who can translate?" she turned rather smugly back to her lesson._

_ After class I began to pack my bag, but quickly realized I wasn't going anywhere. Sighing in defeat, I watched all the students, and even Ms. Perez herself file out of the classroom._

_ "That was stupid," Scott informed me as the door slammed behind the final kid._

_ "No, your glasses are stupid," I corrected him, "That was noble."_

_ "And look where nobility got you," he turned to begin writing._

_ "Well I didn't think that she'd throw me in detention too!" I threw my hands up in the air._

_ "What did you think would happen Grace? Hm?" he turned around to face me, setting the chalk down, "Enlighten me."_

_ Realizing he wasn't being rude, but just in a bad mood, I ignored his comment and began filling my half of the blackboard. _

_ "Sorry," he muttered after a minute of silence._

_ "It's cool," I sighed, not stopping to tear my eyes away from my work._

_ A couple of more minutes passed, before a new sound caught my attention. A tapping noise echoed across the classroom. Looking up, a man in a dark coat stood at the window, drumming at it with enormous claws._

_ My eyes widened at the unexpected visitor, "Friend of yours?" I murmured._

_ He looked up at the figure in the window, paling considerably, "Come on," he grabbed my bicep roughly, pulling me into the hall. We tore through the lockers, the front door inches away from our reach. Before we could touch it however, it was thrown open, revealing the same man._

_ "A little dark for sunglasses, don't you think?" he tilted his head slightly, his grin revealing unnaturally sharp canines. _

_ I nearly fell over in shock, only recovering when Scott hauled me to my feet by my arm. Sprinting back, Scott pushed me towards the adjacent staircase, almost knocking me over._

_ "Go!" he hissed._

_ "No way I'm leaving yo-"_

_ "GO!"_

_ Complying, I clambered up the stairs as Scott burst down the hall. I kept climbing until I hit a door, rushing through it as well. A blast of fresh hair hit me like a punch, as I realized what I had done. I was on the roof. _

_ More importantly, I was completely trapped._

_ I fret over the safety of going back, pacing up and down the roof. I was about to take another step when an enormous burst of red light shot from below, completely severing the corner of the building. If I had taken one more step…_

_ I tried not to think about it as I backed away from the spot in question, the lack of ledge scaring me more than it should. As I focused on not falling off of a three story building, the door flew open. The man from earlier appeared, looming about a foot over me. Grinning down, he stepped forward, forcing me to stumble back._

_ "I don't mean to disagree with you," he glanced down at my shirt, "But by the time we're done, you may have a change in opinion."_

_ The t-shirt in question boor the image of a pixelated goomba, sitting in a sea of purple cotton fabric. Around it the words 'the most evil thing I have ever seen' dangled._

_ Realizing his meaning I took another step backwards, my fingertips brushing against the ledge. Flexing his hands his claws shot out, adding another few inches to the deadly blades._

_ I gulped, fear filling my eyes. With a single backwards glance I bounded back, tumbling over the buildings edge. _

_Victor Creed reached out with his massive claws, attempting to seize her shirt, her neck, anything. His talon grazed the fabric, but did nothing to slow her decent. He leaned over the edge, watching as her body cracked against the asphalt. Her neck lay twisted at an odd angle, her other limbs following its example. Her blonde curls mixed with the crimson pool that steadily grew around her. Satisfied, he turned back, descending the staircase._

_Below waited William Stryker, guarding over the Summers boy's now unconscious body._

"_The witness?" Stryker asked._

"_Dealt with," Victor growled, stalking forward._

_Touching my head lightly, I grimaced as the sticky red liquid coated my fingertips. Peeling myself from the sidewalk, I rubbed away the last traces of grogginess from my eyes._

_Wait._

_Scott._

_Jumping at the thought I whirled around, looking for the boy, but all traces of him and his attackers had disappeared into the night._

That was twenty years ago. That had been one of my last attempts at schooling after I'd run away from home. I'd assumed that he'd died, perished at that creature's hands. The thought haunted me for months, but it passed. It always did. Now, two centuries later, his face was different, but as those ruby shades searched my eyes, I knew it was the same boy I had left all those years ago.

**So, I just saw X-Men Origins: Wolverine, and thought up that bit. If you didn't understand it, you need to see Origins. Good day, dear sir/ madam**

**And a review wouldn't be out of place.**

**Byeee.**


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